


Daddy's Boy

by TheSecondCircle



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Barebacking, Bathing/Washing, Belting, Biting, Daddy Kink, First Time, Forced Enema, Forced Marriage, Forced Orgasm, Gunshot Wounds, Light Bondage, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Kissing, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Shooting, Stabbing, Stragulation, Virginity Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-27 14:11:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15687009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSecondCircle/pseuds/TheSecondCircle
Summary: MobBoss!Bruce AU in which Bruce is struggling to keep his influence over Gotham and willing to make just about any deal to gain back the control he's lost. Dick just happens to be a casualty of his father's desperation for power, married off to Slade Wilson without his say. Jason is dragged down along with him unintentionally when word slips of the deal Bruce made. (More details in the notes)





	1. The Wedding Night

**Author's Note:**

> Bruce Wayne has come from a long lineage of Gotham mob bosses but has been losing territory for years and is trying to gain back some control over the city. He's seen the way Slade Wilson, a heavy hitter in the eastern districts, has been eyeing his eldest son Dick and offers him a deal. Dick’s hand in marriage for the assimilation of their two factions of the city. It goes through surprisingly well as Slade gives in to even Bruce’s most pressing demands. He curses himself for not realizing how much Slade had wanted the young man; he’s shown his hand too early to take it back though now.
> 
> In Bruce's talks later on in the week negotiating a dispute with Black Mask, Roman brings up the arrangement Bruce made with Slade, adding that he knows he has a younger son too. “I'm just saying Brucie, a sweet little thing like him could go a long way in settling tensions between us. Unless you'd prefer things continue as they are.”
> 
> Bruce is glaring daggers, he didn't know anyone else had heard about his deal with Slade yet, and the thought of giving up his younger son in the same way... the boy's not even 18.  
> But Roman, the smug bastard, doesn't look to be persuaded otherwise. “Not too young for parental consent.”

It's later that night, after the wedding has already taken place, that Roman and Jason have made their way to their suite on the top floor of the hotel. Roman leading Jason there with a hand at the small of his back. Two large men follow on either side of them as guards - as jailers. Jason has no doubt in his mind that they’re there to ensure he doesn’t get away, more so than to keep anyone else out. The men down in the lobby are meant for that. It’s when they’ve reached the master bedroom and the door is finally closed that Jason makes his first move.

As Roman continues on into the center of the room, shucking off his suit jacket and hanging it over a chair, Jason remains flattened against the wall beside the door. With Roman not looking his way, he gives the handle a squeeze, a turn.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Jason freezes at the gruff voice clearly meant for him, but Roman is still not looking in his direction, as the man unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeves and rolls them up to his elbows without haste. He stares at Roman for a moment with his hand still holding the door handle, “Do what?”

Roman scoffs and shakes his head, “Don’t play dumb, boy, you know exactly what I mean. Or did you think you were really being that quiet?”

He’s looking at Jason now, an eyebrow pointedly raised as he glances between Jason’s hand where it remains in a cold grip at the door and the look of defiant denial on his face - like he hasn’t done anything wrong. Roman motions for him.

“Come over here.” Jason just stares right back with narrowed eyes of cautiousness. Roman sighs. 

“I’m not gonna hurt yah, alright? But if you keep not listening to me I might have to.”

The door handle slips from Jason’s grip as he slowly walks closer, the uneasy feeling of what’s to come stiffening in his legs. He tells himself that whatever happens he'll handle it just fine. Keeps the thought in the forefront of his mind even as his body works against him to back away from the situation at hand.

Roman smiles with pride, just this side of mockery, like he’s dealing with a tottering young child who doesn’t know what to do without specific instruction. It doesn’t settle well in Jason’s gut. “There we go, that’s a good boy. Why don’t you sit down with me on the bed now, hm?”

Jason stops in his tracks at the mention of the elephant in the room. He hasn’t looked at it yet, refuses to even name it in his thoughts for the simple thing that it is, until he absolutely has to. He hates how childish it makes him feel for indulging in such foolish stubbornness with Roman’s voice still dancing in his head, as if confirming the need for a patronizing tone.

Seeming to have sensed Jason’s distress, Roman’s quick to switch tactics, “Or perhaps the divan would be a better choice?”

Jason bites at the inside of his lip for clarity before prodding at the bit of torn flesh with his tongue. So long as Roman doesn’t pull anything on him, he might as well go along with the demands. Bruce has always told him to pick his battles carefully, but he never in his life imagined that would apply to his wedding night. He nods his head and continues moving forward at a quicker pace. The quicker he can get through this the better.

Roman smiles once again, softer than before. If Jason had to venture a guess it’s because of the fact that he’s in reaching distance now. No need to be so instructive when you can just as easily pull the person down along with you. As if on cue, there's a hand on Jason’s shoulder to guide him the last few steps it takes to reach the couch and sit down next to Roman, thigh to thigh. Jason shifts in his seat to make more room; Roman puts a hand on his thigh to keep him still and leans closer to his ear.

“I can tell how nervous you are, sweetheart, but you don’t gotta be. I want this to be good for you just as much as I do for me.” Jason shivers at the quiet murmur, Roman’s voice so much lower than it was just a second before. He feels Roman’s hand creeping up his thigh, squeezing lightly as his wrist bumps against Jason’s hip. “Won’t you let me do that for you?”

“I’ll make you feel so good.”

It’s when Roman’s hand shifts lower, sliding between his thighs, that Jason reacts. With a room service table laid out beside the divan, Jason reaches out and grabs the knife sitting on the edge of it, jumping from his seat and backing up quickly as he yells at Roman to “Stay back!”

He knows it's not the brightest moment of his life, reacting so aggressively to such a small thing. But after enduring the ceremony earlier in the day, all the festivity and fake happiness, the awkwardly tender kiss at the altar, Jason's running low on how much more he's willing to tolerate. A hand reaching for his dick just happens to be one of those things.

Roman just raises his hands placatingly as he slowly approaches, like the knife pointed right at him isn’t really a serious threat. "It's okay sonny, shh. Don't get yourself all worked up."

Jason doesn't know what to do, he’s backed himself up into a corner of the room and stuck to the spot just fidgeting on his feet, eyes wide with uncertainty as they dart back and forth to look for a way out. The knife is shaking in his hand. Leave it to Jason to point a knife at someone's face without a plan as to what to do with it. Killing Roman doesn't feel like much of an option, after everything Bruce has done to get the city's underworld to be the calmest it's ever been in the past 20 years. Letting Roman have his way with him doesn't feel like much of an option either.

It’s only when Roman gets within arms distance that Jason makes the guileless attempt of jumping around him. The fact that the maneuver fails so spectacularly is less than surprising. He’s caught around the waist mid air as he hammers a fist at the arm grabbing out at him and hauled back against Roman’s chest.

“Get off of me!”

The knife is snagged from Jason’s hands in the awkward embrace and pressed along the front of his throat, Roman’s other arm tightening around his waist in a bruising grip - a solid bar of muscle squeezing in against his stomach. It’s only instinct that Jason’s hands shoot up to grab and pull at the wrist holding a knife to his throat.

"You really think that was a good idea? Think you’d just run away by threatening me like that?" Roman brings the knife in closer, working against the pull of Jason’s hands around his wrist, until the edge is pressing on Jason's adams apple hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. “I'm not a man to be tested, Jason.”

It’s then that Jason can feel Roman's erection pressing against his lower back through the man's slacks.

Is he..? Is he getting off on this..? Jason’s body stiffens at the thought. Of all the people to be stuck with.

But then Roman is just chuckling, amused by the fear he's caused, before whispering hotly in Jason's ear. "Why don't we have you be a good little boy now, and go wash off, hm?" Using the knife to gesture towards the bathroom.

Jason swallows hard before nodding his head.

"Good boy." Roman gives a slight push to get Jason moving in the right direction.

Following Jason to the bathroom, Roman keeps the knife still in hand. The room is huge with a shower big enough for 3 or 4 people, a giant tub on another side. Once Roman gets the door closed behind him he orders Jason to “Strip.”

When there’s no immediate reply, Roman presses him further. "Come on boy, we don't have all night for this. I got better things planned."

Jason just scowls at him for a second before hastily undoing the buttons on his shirt cuffs and working his way down the collar. Roman tutting at him, "Slowly."

“Thought you wanted to get this over with quick.” Jason mutters back with a curl of his lip.

Roman’s eyes narrow. “Back talking like that ain’t doing you any favors baby.”

Jason meets Roman with a glare of his own but slows down his undressing like told, purposefully putting no effort into making a show of it. He gets down to his boxers and crosses his arms.

It was before the wedding that Jason was forced to pull a pair of lacy white panties on, too small to cover much more than his cock and balls, the top curve of his ass. He had slipped his boxers on over top to hide them, but with his mind in a rage it’s now that he’s forgotten to check that the panties have remained that way. The white lace of them peek out across the jut of one hip unbeknownst. 

His voice remains strong with his ignorance. "You can leave now. I don't need help washing myself like you, old man."

But Roman narrows in on the bit of white, a smirk widening across his face. Jason's face flushes when he realizes where the older man is looking. The feeling of horror dropping hard in his gut.

"What's that you got on for me? Trying to look pretty for the wedding night?” _The smug bastard._ “How bout you give me a show."

Jason just flushes harder and looks away.

"Come on, boy, you can go the easy way or the hard way - makes no difference to me. By the end of the night, I'll still be getting what I came here for. Now get those off before I take them off."

Jason's fingers are shaking as he pushes down his boxers, about to push down the panties with them to avoid further humiliation, but Roman cuts him off. "Uh uh uh, just the boxers sweetheart."

Jason scowls but does as he's told, lets the boxers fall to the floor with the panties still tight around his hips, barely hiding anything from view. Everything's waxed smooth and hairless in preparation for this night. He still can't look at Roman, clenching his jaw in embarrassment.

Roman whistles low. Using the knife to gently push Jason's arms from being crossed across his chest before backing up again to get a better view. Jason's nipples rosy and raised from the cold air in the room. Roman's still fully clothed, sans suit jacket, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to the elbow.

"Very pretty, very pretty. Look at me baby, hm? I wanna see those pretty little eyes of yours."

Jason's clenching his fists at his sides but he looks up at Roman with what he hopes is a glare of defiance. Doesn't even realize how teared up his eyes are right now as he scowls at Roman, still trying to retain a sense of bravado. Roman smirks, “There’s those baby blues.”

"Now give me a spin." Roman motions the knife in a circle.

Jason does a stiff turn around, can hear Roman humming in approval as he does, before facing him again. Roman must have moved closer when he had his back turned. Barely a foot or two apart, Roman uses the edge of the knife to stick under the lace of the panties, pulling them away to look at Jason's cock. Tutting at him.

"Still not much of a man yet, huh." 

Jason's ears are burning with shame as he murmurs "it's just fucking cold in here."

Not quiet enough. "What did you say?" Jason clenches his jaw, knife so close to his junk he doesn't much feel like retaliating, just presses his lips in a tight line.

"That's what I thought." Roman presses the cold side of the knife against it, pushing at Jason's cock to get a peek at his balls, "Smooth as a baby's ass."

He pulls the knife back out of the panties. "Turn around for me."

Jason hesitates. Roman playing with his junk doesn't bode well in his mind, thinking of what's to come if he turns around to show the man his ass.

Roman repeats himself, voice just along the thin line between anger and calm. "Turn around, Jason."

Jason shakes his head, eyes on the floor.

"Jason. Turn. Around."

Jason's bottom lip is quivering just slightly. "please don't make me"

Roman shoves Jason around with the palm of a hand forced against his shoulder to press him up against the wall. Jason's thrashing, trying to turn back and throw Roman off him until the knife is pressed against the side of his neck again. Roman breathing against his ear.

"Already resorting to begging so soon?" 

Pants now off, there's less layers between Jason and Roman's hard on. He shivers, a small whine escaping his throat without his say, when he realizes just how big Roman must be from the press of it. He's been pointedly avoiding looking down there the whole night.

Roman grinds forward against Jason's ass at the noise he makes. "You like that baby?"

Jason just pushes his hips further against the wall, trying to move away from the action, but the cold tile is ungiving. "Nervous, I see. Your father didn't say whether you were a virgin, but I could've guessed as much with how up tight you are. Acting so tough with a cute little face like that, just begging to be wrecked."

Jason's starting to become breathless with the adrenaline building in his veins, the side of his face pressed against the wall with the knife still against his neck. He shakes his head just enough to be noticable. "Not a- not a virgin." He replies indignantly.

Roman just smiles. Leans forward to whisper in Jason's ear. "Ever been with a man before?"

Jason freezes.

Roman chuckles, chest against Jason's back so the boy can feel it too, "that's what I thought. Now let's get a look at that cherry before it's popped, hm?"

The direct suggestion makes Jason's brain jump into fight or flight mode. Roman keeps the knife where it is but takes a step back to get a foot between them, fingers of his other hand pulling the panties down under the swell of his buttcheeks.

Breath puffing out against Jason’s neck, Roman’s voice is soft in his ear. "I'm gonna set the knife down now, you promise you'll behave?"

Jason nods his head. There’s tingling in the back of his mind.

"Good, good." Roman sets the knife down on the sink counter with a soft clink, "See, we just gotta get-" But Jason elbows him in the face to cut off his words, "Fucking cunt!" Roman backing up from the blow to cover his bloody nose as Jason snatches the knife and sprints to the door.

Shaking hands taking longer than it should to get the lock undone and opening it-- to get tackled to the ground into the master bedroom of the suite. Roman wrestles with him, trying to grasp at the knife as it cuts deep slits into the fabric of his shirt just nicking the skin beneath.

"You ungrateful little shit!" It’s only a split second that Roman grabs hold of it, sharp edge slicing at his palm as he wrenches the knife away by the blade, chucking it to the other side of the room before Jason has the chance to get it back from him again. Strong hands wrap around Jason's throat as he straddles the boy's waist, Jason claws at his face, pushing him away. Roman just sneers down at him, blood smearing on his lip.

"And to think, I was being so nice to you. Now daddy's real angry."

Jason's face is turning purple, legs kicking out, hips trying to buck Roman off as he chokes for another breath. Roman's smile fading to black as stars pop against the back of his eyes. Roman gives his neck a tighter squeeze, breath quickening, "That's right, _take it you little slut._ " 

Legs falling limp as his head lulls to the side in Roman's hands, just barely picking up on the sensation of the older man rocking down against him... Before the pressure finally lets up, Jason sucking in a sharp breath of air into his aching lungs as Roman rises to his feet, kicking the boy in the side as he rolls over still gasping for painful gulps of air.

"What'd I say about testing me?" Roman gives him another kick, this time hard enough to drive the air from Jason's lungs and make him curl in on himself even more, shaking near naked on the floor still trying to catch his breath. It’s without pride that Jason realizes his dick’s gone hard, pressing up against the smooth plane of his stomach and twitching with every breath he sucks in - the erection bordering on painful. He curls up further and prays Roman hasn’t noticed.

Walking across the room Roman wipes the blood from his nose, flicking his wrist to get it off his hand. He paces over to the room service table to uncork the champagne and take a swig off the top as he watches Jason heaving on the ground with a cold gaze. He pops the first couple buttons of his shirt and loosens his tie, slicking his hair back out of his face as he strides back over to the boy's shaking form.

Roman prods the end of his shoe into Jason's stomach, "Come on, up." Jason doesn't respond, still gasping for air. " _Up. Now._ Or perhaps you’d like another go ‘round the floor; sure looks like you enjoyed yourself." Jason shakes his head minutely, cheeks flaring an angry red, still refusing to speak from the pain in his throat.  
_"Then get up."_

Jason rises slowly to his feet, his legs unsteady and quivering below him as he pushes off the ground with his hands. He can almost feel Roman's heat radiating behind him.

"Into the bathroom." Jason trudges forward, feet shuffling along the ground. His head is still swimming, dizzy from the lack of oxygen, shoulders knocking into the doorframe as he makes his way into the bathroom. Roman doesn't bother closing the door this time with Jason teetering on his feet.

"Get in the shower."

Jason noticeably shivers more at the words, but obeys nonetheless. Sliding the glass door open with shaking hands and stepping in sideways. Roman pushes at the door further, opening the shower up to the rest of the room. 

Roman's staring at Jason impassively with his arms crossed when Jason turns around to face him again. "Take the panties off."

Jason meets Roman's gaze with worried eyes, pushing the panties down and toeing them off, balling them up in his fist. Roman extends his hand out and Jason hands them over. He keeps looking at him, waiting for the next order.

"Go on, turn the water on, get yourself showered off. Clean." ... "I'll make sure you don't miss anything."

Jason hesitates, blinks back at him for a moment lashes sticking together with the drying salt, before turning his head to the faucet and turning it on. He can hear Roman breathing from the side with carefully measured inhales, clear even through the sound of the shower echoing in the room.

"You can make it hotter than that."

Jason glances over at him out of the corner of his eye, not sure if it was really a command, but knowing all the same the consequences that will be had if he doesn't listen. He turns the water further up.

"Hotter."

Jason's fingers slip on the knob, swallowing down the lump in his throat before turning it up once more, as far as it will go. The water scalding his skin in an instant. He grimaces.

"Much better."

Jason soaps up his hands, rubbing the suds through his hair, across his chest, under his arms... between his legs. He doesn't want Roman to step in and make sure he's more thorough. Looking down, he sees his dick still standing at full attention under the heat of the shower and averts his eyes, tries to will it away. He focuses on the water running down his face, soap swirling down the drain, less and less bubbles with every pass. It doesn’t feel like it’s helping. He presses his fingers against the side of his neck and flinches back at his own touch. Knows there's going to be a bruise.

He's reaching forward to turn off the faucet when Roman clears his throat; Jason's head snaps back to meet his eyes.

"You haven't gotten everything."

Jason furrows his brow at him but Roman only nods his head and points to a hose latched against the wall beside him, the open end nothing but a hollow tube like the rest of it. Jason knows this is something different than the rest of the shower heads immediately. His mind trips, skipping over the thoughts bubbling up to tell him what it's for. He doesn't want to know. Roman tells him anyway.

"You see that?"

Jason nods his head.

"I want you to grab that hose," Jason pulls it off the wall while Roman speaks, "and I want you to stick it up your ass."

Jason's hands tighten around it.

He opens up his mouth, closes it again in uncertainty before saying anything. Just loud enough to be heard over the running water. "Why?"

Roman crooks his lips in an insincere smile, "Because I told you to. Like I said, I'm here to make sure you don't miss anything. I want _all_ of you clean. I didn't specify just the outside."

Jason swallows around the lump growing in his throat, "And if I say no?"

Roman's smile turns, souring into a look of deadened annoyance. "I'm sure I'd be able think of something to make you change your mind. Now put it in babydoll."

Jason stares back at him, the pace of his breathing escalating. He weighs his options: he could make a run for it like he did last time, the door to the bedroom is open this time. Then again, Roman is still standing right in front of him like a brick wall, looking unaffected as ever from their tussle before.

Roman's tapping his foot, it's clear he's fast losing his patience once again at Jason's antics.

Jason's mind races, trying to think things through in a jumping panic. If he simply says no... then Roman would have to come in the shower to try to force him into doing what he says. Wet from the shower it shouldn't be too hard to slip out of his grasp, run out the door, maybe stuff a chair under the door handle - there's one right outside the master bathroom - and then... then he'll figure things out from there. Find the knife again, jimmy open a window or make a run for it out the suite's main door and into the hallway. He's certain he's fast enough to outrun those big lugs guarding their rooms....

Jason's so busy thinking, he doesn't notice Roman entering the shower to stand next to him under the steaming spray. He looks up in a startle just as Roman's fist collides with the side of his face. Didn't stand a chance, feet wet on the slippery floor he goes sprawling down, clunking the back of his head against the tiled wall on his way. It's making things blurry.

He feels Roman climb over top of him, having ripped the hose from Jason's hands as he started crawling along the slick floor, sputtering out wet lungfuls of air against the tile. Roman yanks him back by the hair with his free hand before he gets very far, Jason arching his back and flinging his hands back to grab at him, to ease the pressure as he whines from the pull. His legs kick out in an attempt to make any sort of contact with the man behind him, but he has so little leverage with his back curved in a C and his skin slipping on the ground.

"You could've just listened, just done what I said and everything would be just fine." Roman sticks his fingers down Jason's cleft with the hand still holding the hose, pulling at his cheek to expose him as best he can. He plants a shin across Jason’s thighs to hold him down. "But you just had to make it hard on yourself." He shoves the end of it in.

Jason’s keening before he even knows it, clenching down on the hose like his body thinks that'll do the trick in getting it out of him when a mad man's at his back holding it in place. Roman let's go of Jason's hair, letting the boy's head drop, barely catching himself before it can thunk against the tile again. He keeps his shin pressed down across Jason's thighs, adding more pressure when Jason tries to move and cutting off the circulation. Jason's in the middle of twisting his body around, getting his arms behind him to push Roman off of him, to punch the man, when he sees a hand reaching for the shower knob and pulling. The water stops running.

Jason stops hitting at Roman when he realizes why, exactly, the shower has stopped working. And then he feels it, hears it coming through the tube before it reaches his hole, the liquid seeping in. He grunts at the feeling as he keeps trying to push away, his hand slipping on Roman's forearm on the tailend of a moan as he feels the pressure building inside. A stuttering cry passing through gritted teeth, he wants to squirm, it doesn't feel right, the water moving inside him, filling him up. Roman's hand just shoves the tube in harder as Jason fidgets around it. He wails, when the tube is still held firmly in place even as he can feel the water dripping out of his ass, arms faltering beneath him, grinding his hips against the tile to stop it, stop the stretch. It shouldn’t feel this good.

"Please, please Stop! Please!" He bites off the tailend of a groan, his nails digging in the groat of the tile uselessly, "Just-just get that fucking thing out of me! _Please!"_

The sound of the knob turning, the water no longer running, it makes Jason sob knowing it's finally over. Without even looking, Jason knows, just knows, that the bastard is grinning ear to ear. He hears it in Roman's tone of voice.

"I suppose since you've asked so nicely."

If anything could feel worse, Jason doesn't know what it is. He feels humiliated, struck down beneath a man who has no right to be treating him this way; a piece of scum who actually delights in the torment of others. Jason grinds his teeth. His mind so busy in loathing that he doesn't anticipate that the feel of the water coming out would be worse than going in.

Roman pulls the tube out of Jason's ass, the hard edge of the end of it scraping at his entrance and making him wince. It's only once it's all the way out that Jason feels truly, utterly empty inside in more ways than one. The relief of the built up water finally leaving him is bliss, but the feeling of it, the water running out of him. He didn't think his ears could flush any redder.

The knowledge that Roman is watching it happen just worsens the situation and he tries once again to move his legs to get away without success, it only clenches his inner muscles, making the water leak out faster. He can feel it. Roman's damn near purring at the sight. Jason presses his forehead harder against the tile and shakes.

"All cleaned up. That wasn’t so bad now was it?”

Jason's seething, behind the tears and the worrying of his lip, his jaw locked shut to keep himself from making any noise. Roman slaps his ass when he doesn't respond, not in the least bit gentle - Jason yelps at the sting. Roman won't let anything go.

"Hm? Much better than the outcome of your last little outburst, yes?" The tone of his voice has gotten darker.

Jason sucks in his bottom lip, hating the idea of giving into the man still holding him down, hating even more the idea of what Roman could do if he doesn't respond - he clearly doesn't have any qualms about dealing physical punishment. Jason only gives out a murmur of a reply.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, it wasn't as awful as being fucking _strangled_."

Roman shifts his leg from pinning Jason down at the thighs as he rises to his feet, unbuttoning his drenched and cut up dress shirt and undoing his tie to throw on the floor of the shower. Still standing over Jason as he lies on the floor unwilling to move. Not yet. Not until he's ordered to or dragged from the ground itself.

The bastard won’t shut up. "We're gonna have to work on that mouth of yours.” Roman pauses as he pushes the wet hair from out of his face. “Then again we have the rest of our lives for that. After all, your daddy married you off to me.”

"Ain't that right baby?" Roman steps to the side of him then, bending down next to Jason as if expecting an answer. Jason turns his head and spits in Roman's face, lashing out the only way he can at the reminder of what Bruce has done to him.

" _Fuck you._ "

Roman wipes a hand down his face, his chest heaving, "You shouldn't've done that kiddo." He rises back up, hand snarling in Jason's hair and lifting him up with him. Jason yells out at the pain, hastily pulling his legs underneath him without coordination, the sting of pins and needles escalating as he moves them. He whimpers, stumbling behind Roman as he’s dragged back into the master bedroom.

Jason's certain by the end of the night there won't be a hair left on his head with how Roman keeps manhandling him around by it, only letting go when they reach the bed and giving Jason a harsh shove til he falls down on top of it back first, bouncing with the force. He starts backing up the bed putting up a hand like a stop as Roman starts undoing his belt, pulling the leather slowly through the loops of his slacks.

"wait wait wait. Just-just give me a second, please. I need - a minute. I just-" Jason's back hits the head of the bed with a thud, his lungs feel like they could burst from the lack of oxygen, from too much oxygen-- He's hyperventilating. It's when his breathing seems to have reached its peak that he spots the gleam of the knife lying on the floor next to the bed. He hears the metal end of Roman's belt snapping against the last loop.

"Come on baby, you know this isn't gonna get any better, the more you resist." Why does Roman’s voice always have to sound so patronizing when he acts like he’s being reasonable? Then again, it’s likely he truly believes that he is.

Jason looks at Roman, the hands he has planted on the end of the bed, belt still held in the right, as if holding himself back from reaching forward and yanking Jason down the bed by his ankles. Jason looks to the knife again in his periphery and makes up his mind. 

He rolls off the side of the bed where the knife is at, landing down on his knees as he reaches to pick it up. "Why you little-" Roman's quick to react pushing off the edge of the bed and surging towards him just as Jason bolts up, hands connecting with the table from room service and throwing it behind him just as Roman lunges for him. The cutlery, booze and food spraying out across the room and tripping Roman up in the mess, stumbling with his fingers just grazing the floor hunched over from the near fall, "You BITCH!"

Jason keeps running, not bothering to look behind him - looking won't stop Roman from catching up with him. He hears the thumps, heavy steps chasing after him and growing closer by the second, and grabs a plate from off the table in the dining room as he passes through, flinging it behind him with a quick glance. The resulting clunk of it making contact and faltering steps is enough to make him smile in triumph as it shatters to the floor. _"Goddamnit!"_

The door is 8 feet away. 7. 5. 2. Jason nearly slams into it with the momentum he's built sprinting. Hands wrapping around the handle, twisting, swinging it open. He manages to hit one of the guards standing at the right of the door with the force of it opening, hearing a grunt from the other side, and jams the knife into the shoulder of the one to his left as the goliath of a man swings his arms out to grab him.

Jason's running down the hall, speed gaining with his adrenaline, smile growing on his face, when a muffled shot rings out in the hallway-- a split second before he feels the burning pain racing through his right leg.

He screams, cries as he tumbles to the ground and clutches at the bleeding hole in his calf. He can hear the slap of Roman's shoes on the hard floor as he approaches, sees the silencer screwed on the end of a pistol hanging at his side with smoke still flitting out the end of it - the two burly men from the door flanking him on either side. They reach for Jason, grabbing at his ankles and dragging him face down with his hips in the air as he claws at the ground and yells at whoever will listen. He can hear the desperation in his own voice.

_"Let me go! Let go of me you scumbags! Don't listen to him! I don't fucking care what he's told you; I don't want to be here! Let me go! I didn't agree to this shit!"_

He can't help but cry in agony with each jerk on the hold of his right ankle, pulling at the hurt leg and stretching the punctured skin around the bullet wound. Feels the floor burning against his bare chest. The men remain silent as they continue to drag him back to the room. Roman hasn't said a word either as he leads the way. The silence is worse than the taunting as Jason screams without reply.

The walls are soundproof in the building. The whole floor’s even booked out by the lot of Black Mask's men, drinking and messing around for the celebration. Why did he even think for a moment that they would listen to him?

He feels like a wild animal as he flails naked against the changing floors, gunned down and dragged back into the cave of the predator that shot him. Wonders briefly if Bruce knew it would be like this, when he sold Jason off to settle some stupid turf war. The betrayal surging in his gut only serves to make his tears run hotter down the flush of his cheeks; he wishes he wasn’t crying.

Jason finally hears Roman speak as they enter the bedroom once more, "I didn't want to have to shoot you, you know, but you shouldn't've run sweetheart. Haven't even fulfilled your wifely duties yet and you're already trying to bail? I won't have it." Roman motions to the men still holding Jason by the ankles in a bruising grip. "Hold him down on the bed for me will yah, ass up. Boy needs to learn a lesson or two." 

Jason can see out of the corner of his eye the leather belt still grasped in Roman's hand, the other’s palm still bloody; he's sat the pistol down somewhere along the way. Standing there in just his black slacks and near translucent undershirt, untucked, champagne stains spreading across the wet cling of the fabric with dots of red blooming around slitted holes from the knife. His nose slightly crooked with a trickle of dried up blood.

Jason could almost be proud of the mess that he's made of Roman, if it weren't for his current predicament: large hands wrapping around him and lifting him onto the bed as he thrashes despite the pain it induces. Their grips shifting to hold his arms out at his sides, kicking his legs open with their feet and reaching down to grasp at his bare thighs and hold them in place. Jason fidgets and flexes in the hold, desperate to find a weak point, but their grip on him only tightens to jabbing points of pain at the dig of their fingers in his skin. He groans in frustration. Roman grinds his jaw harder at the noise Jason makes from the hands of his men, as he readies the leather belt, pulling it in a taut loop between clenched fists.

“Thought your daddy would’ve taught you some manners. Guess that’s what I get for dealing with a Wayne, always goes too light on the discipline. And yet he wonders why Gotham doesn’t take him seriously.”

Jason growls against the sheets at the insult to his family, the burn of indignity in his chest, as he continues twisting and pulling at his limbs for release. Turning his head as best he can to glare at the man standing behind him, he bares his teeth, voice still raspy from being choked out, “More manners than a sick freak like you.” 

He can see the anger flicker in Roman’s eyes, the man’s nostrils flaring with aggression. Why can’t he just keep his damn mouth shut?  
“Now you’re just asking for it, boy.”

Jason yells when the first hit of the belt lands across the top of one buttock. “Fuck!”

His hips jerk forward involuntarily against the comforter on the bed, as if his mind thinks an inch of a difference is enough to escape the hits to come. The burn only grows worse with the passing seconds after the initial bite of the leather in his skin. It’s quickly followed by another. And another. The sting worsening as bruising lines and welts begin to overlap at the continued slap of the belt connecting with reddened flesh.

Bruce had never shied away from belting him and Dick, but never like this. Never this hard, this cruel, with an audience around them; forcing them into staying still with the hands of other men holding them down. It wasn’t like that.

The comparison only makes Jason’s eyes water more as he bites back the hurt and grunts through each snap of leather on his ass. But he can’t keep from crying out in agony as one particularly hard hit splits the skin between butt and thigh. With the pain racing through his body Jason doesn’t catch his words before they leave his mouth, “I’m sorry daddy! I’m so sorry! Please, _daddy!”_

When the next hit doesn’t land a second later, Jason feels a wave of panic rush through him like ice in his veins. It’s only then that he realizes what exactly he’s said. He presses the side of his face harder against the bed, refusing to look back as he forces his breathing through his nose. He doesn’t trust himself to have his mouth open. But the words already said have not fallen on deaf ears.

“Well, well, well. Would you look at that? Seems I’m finally getting through to you, eh?”

Jason’s arms twitch at his sides, still pulled taut away from him and desperately wanting the freedom to move. His chest is heaving with the force of each exhale. Can feel the pull on his throat to his stomach, the focus it’s taking to keep himself from out right sobbing against the sheets. He feels like he could puke.

Roman’s voice has turned sickly sweet. “Come on, baby, say it again. Call me daddy one more time and this can all be over. _Beg me._ ”

Jason doesn’t want to, to give in. It’d be too akin to admitting defeat. But his lips part, quivering with his tongue at a halt in his mouth unwilling to cooperate. He licks his lips and lets a breath pass between them to try to steady his nerves. Everything’s already strung so thin. It hurts to speak for more reasons than one.

“...daddy…” He can feel his lungs freezing up in betrayal as he wheezes out the last word, “... _please_ ”

In the dead quiet of the room Roman’s satisfied grin is near audible. It’s like Jason can feel it. The smug look on Roman’s face boring into the back of his skull; the man all too pleased with himself and what he’s pulled from the quivering body in front of him. Like he’s won.

“All you gotta do is ask, babycakes, all you gotta do is ask. Daddy doesn’t want to have to beat you into submission all the time.” Jason can hear the light clink of a metal buckle as the belt is placed down on a table. “Just be a good little boy, and daddy’ll take care of you real good.”

Roman swats a hand at Jason’s ass playfully when there’s no response, but the pain from the belting only makes Jason yelp and whine when Roman grabs onto the raw meat of it and gives him a shake. “Think you can do that for me, sweetcheeks? Do it for daddy?”

It’s like salt in the wound how much Roman is rubbing it in, using Jason’s own words against him to cut so deep. He makes up his mind when Roman speaks again with a snarl curling at his words like a threat.

“Or maybe you need another round of the _belt_ to help loosen you up.”

 _“No.”_ Jason can hear the shaking in his own voice, hates how weak it makes him sound, “No I’ll be a good boy.” _Pathetic._

“Good, good.” The words trail off as Roman paces away, hears the wet drop of a shirt to the ground, shoes being toed off to the side. “That’s what daddy likes to hear.”

“You’ll-you’ll let me go now?”

Roman snickers, “Think I trust you yet with all the shit you’ve pulled tonight? No way, baby. I can’t have you running off on me again. Not right before we get to consummating the marriage.”

Coming closer to the end of the bed once more to watch as Jason lies there still trembling, Roman smears a thumb through the bead of blood dripping down the back of Jason’s thigh. Tenderly. “Ain’t official otherwise.”

It takes Roman a moment as he strokes the soft skin, lost in the haze of lust that swells in him... before he raises his gaze to look at his men, “Tie his hands against the headboard. On his back.”

“I want the boy facing me for our first time together as husband and wife.”


	2. The Consummation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things don't exactly swing in Jason's favor after the belting. More tags added above.

It’s amazing how renewed Jason’s vigor becomes at the mention of the consummation. Kicks out with his legs to the sides, hitting at air as his body is manhandled to be flipped around, lengths of silk he hadn’t noticed already tied to posts on the headboard grabbed and wrapped around his wrists tighter and tighter, to be knotted off at his pulse points.

It clicks in his mind then that the strips of silk were likely there since he and Roman first entered the rooms earlier in the night. A precautionary measure should an event like this happen. Never noticed by Jason from his avid avoidance of even glancing in the bed’s direction.

That Roman would see something like this coming from a mile away doesn't particularly surprise Jason. But the knowledge that he was already willing to participate in such an end game sends cold shivers down his spine. As if he isn't already shaking out of his skin. How has this become him? _How did Bruce not know._

He bucks his hips off the bed and whines when the flex of his arms does nothing to loosen the knots holding them astride. Cries when the movement only sends flares of renewed pain through the tenderized flesh of his rear. Everything feels so exposed, cut and pulled, pinned to a mantel meant for more than just viewing. Jason recognizes the signs of a panic sweeping through him, the sounds of the room coming through as little more than buzzing noises. Eyes tunneled only to the person standing directly in front of him. Roman’s gaze so intense.

It’s like the world slows down to examine the minutiae of that one look. As if knowing what it means would allow Jason to stop the coming actions seen behind it. All it really does is make his throat close up, ready to choke himself with his own fear rather than be subjected to the reality of what’s going on around him. What’s happening to him. What will happen. It’s a good thing his sobbing is so obscured by his own faulty hearing. He doesn’t think he could handle knowing it’s there.

“Now get your hands off him and don’t you ever touch him again. Less you’re wanting to lose a few fingers.” Anger. There’s anger there isn’t there? So very angry.

The lights are glaring from the water in his eyes, streaking across the room like golden arrows. Piercing the bastard’s heart. It’s too bad he never had one to begin with, so much for a death blow. Jason can feel a hand on his ankle. Another skittering up his thigh. The nerves of this man.

Roman slaps his cheek, his face cheek. Jason smiles for a second at the correction in his mind, that there was a need for one, before reality comes settling back into his brain like a half ton weight.

“Jason? Jason look at me.”

Jason rolls his eyes to meet the man’s oddly worried ones. So much to worry about in this economy.

His voice comes out clearer than it feels, like glass on water, “Why won’t you let me go.” His eyes don’t much feel like blinking as he stares unwaveringly at the man. No need for extra moisture anyways.

Roman smiles softly, who would’ve thought he even had a nice smile? The bastard. “Wouldn’t be right. I’ve only just got you.”

“And if I didn’t want to get got?” Fuck english. His mind’s a tumbleweed.

Roman ducks his head, looks like he’s the one to lose the staring contest. His eyes look back up from under his brows, still with such a sweet look on his face. It’s beyond infuriating. Jason wants to punch him. “That wasn’t really the point.”

Jason blinks then, contests over anyways. Sucks being a winner if this is what it feels like.

“The point…?” He sucks in his bottom lip. Licks it with his tongue. “I don’t see the point in any of this.” Ah, there’s the drop of water rolling down his cheek, so the tears are still coming? How wonderful.

Roman smirks.

“Give it time.” Because he has so much of it.

And then there’s a cool finger at his hole. Circling and circling circling. Wet. Roman seems to have given up speaking, mouthing and sucking words onto Jason’s neck doesn’t make much intelligible. Though, as with so many things, Roman doesn’t seem to care. His lips moving down Jason’s chest, biting at a nipple. Does he even realize something like that actually hurts? The pulling back that ensues suggests he doesn’t.

Jason whines as a finger is pressed in to the knuckle. The epitome of a virgin’s first time. Wonderful. Just how he wanted it to be. Vulnerable and overly sensitive to even the slightest of touch. Oh how Roman must be reveling in it. And wouldn’t you know? There’s that self-satisfied growl of his.

Has Roman always been up on the bed? Jason can’t close his legs anymore when he tries. Bodies are so solid, the man’s hips clasped between his knees. There’s going to be bruises from Roman’s bites.

He can hear himself gasping as a second finger is added, moves and goes deeper alongside the first, teeth and lips pulling off from sucking at his hip. Oh, how horrible it is to have sound fully back. Why must his brain do this now? It could’ve asked first.

“Do you even know what the word “no” means?” Hm, that’s his voice. Jason Peter Todd. He has a voice, despite what current events might say. If only Roman knew.

“So far I haven’t heard you use it, baby.” Words are starting to hurt again; Roman’s teeth never stopped. He’s back at Jason’s neck, giving him a nip before resuming his graze of teeth, tasting the boy’s sweat as it drips down his throat. A favorite of his, though the choking from before kind of gave that away if Jason really thinks about it. _Why must he think again?_

“I’m saying no, Roman. **_No._ ** ”

Roman growls, curling it into a pur at the end of it. “And as your husband, I’m telling you yes.”

Kisses are so quick to return. So easy to come by. They feel like poison on Jason’s neck, seeping through the skin and into his bloodstream. It’s making it difficult to talk.

He’s straining just to speak, to cry, “That’s not how this works! That’s not _consent_ , it’s **rape**!”

Roman licks a wet stripe along the curve of Jason’s neck, up the underside of his jaw (poison poison poison) to whisper hotly in his ear.

“No such thing as rape in a marriage sweetheart.” He nuzzles against Jason’s hair and breathes in deeply, “You’re just meant to lie there and take it.” He curls his fingers into Jason’s prostate, makes him whimper.

“To please me.” Roman pulls his fingers apart, twisting, Jason whines high in his throat, before removing them.

The man sits up to undo the fly of his pants, “What did you think I got you for?” Pulls out his dick and gives it a stroke with the slicked palm of his hand as he looks down breathlessly at the boy laid out before him. His to devour.

“no. please don’t.”

Roman presses the head of his cock against Jason’s hole, looking down at the space they’ll soon be joining.

“Some chit-chat over dinner?”

He pushes in.

_Jason screams._

It’s belated that Roman realizes he should have prepped Jason more, if he wanted the boy to actually enjoy being penetrated. His dick already inside him. But Jason's inner walls, not properly stretched in advance for something so thick and stiff to be thrust inside, squeeze around Roman's length pleasurably. Fingers digging bruises into the boy’s hips to hold him still as he drives further in. It's the first time someone’s ever breached Jason’s little hole, so tight and sweet from never taking a man's cock until now. And what a miracle that is.

Jason cries so beautifully. _His precious boy._ Roman grunts as he gives Jason another thrust to close the gap between them. Another man's cock buried deep in his ass, Jason burns with shame - the humiliation hurts more than the physical pain ever could.

It’s not that he's never fantasized of being with a man, being penetrated. But he never had the gall like Dick, the confidence to really put himself out there and say what he wanted. And now the first feeling of it ever happening is with a murderer. A man much older than himself, thrusting, grunting and groaning, using Jason’s body for his own pleasure and nothing more. Jason wants to cry at how pathetically worthless he is to help himself. Reminds himself that he is, in fact, crying. It doesn’t make him feel any better to know his weakness is showing through.

Then again, Jason thinks, as he damn near shrieks on a particularly harsh thrust, perhaps the physical pain is worse. He feels like he’s being impaled, deeper and deeper to reach his heart and end him once and for all. The stretch makes him want to split in half. Jason’s whining as his legs twitch uselessly and tighten around the hips planted between them, pistoning in and out with rough abandon. He can hear the squelching, the heavy breathing panting on his neck. _Like a fucking animal._ It makes it worse when Roman’s cock rubs against his prostate to mix pleasure with pain and drive his senses haywire in the confusion. Jason moans helplessly. He sounds like a whore.

Roman's voice makes it through the screams as he groans, thrusts harder, panting out his words hot against Jason's ear, "Knew you'd be good for it. _Heh._ Once you got daddy's cock in you. _**aaauuh** Been waiting for it all night."_

It shouldn't be possible for Jason's dick to get hard off the embarrassment, adding insult to injury as it twitches against his stomach to smear a line of precum cooling on the skin. Jason whines, turns his head against the pillow to avoid Roman's rapturous gaze, certain his whole body has turned beet red. So obvious in his humiliation and arousal.

_"Daddy's gonna fill you up so good. **Hrrnh.** Fill his little boy's cunt with daddy's cum; baby's first time with a man... **Hah** and already such a cockslut just moaning for it."_

Jason can feel the hands trail up his sides, his abs, to feel at the muscle taut beneath sweat slick skin and claw into the soft flesh as he arches his back and sobs against the pillow. Bites on his lips to keep from crying out so loud, but a hand on his ribs is soon replaced by a mouth as the fingers push into his own, pressing down on his tongue to keep his jaw from closing when he moans, wanton and salacious. The noise cracking in his throat into a high-pitched squeal when Roman rams in harder still, slams into Jason’s hips and rattles his bones.

The hands on Jason’s body are soon retreating as Roman grabs Jason’s legs around his knees, propping them atop his shoulders as he thrusts into the boy - deeper now than before, tighter as Jason bends from the angle. Roman groans at the feeling as the boy keens. Bows his head to get his mouth on the sensitive skin of Jason’s inner thighs, sucking and biting at the skin to pull the blood to the surface, pop the vessels it’s contained in. Red and purple blossoms shining with spit. No longer a blank canvas, but his own masterpiece.

It’s when he’s getting closer, so close, that he orders Jason with a grunt to, _“Look at me. Look at me, Jason.”_

Roman can see the tears streaming down Jason’s face, splotchy and red, lips quivering and swollen from being bitten and chewed at. Roman’s hand reaches back from Jason’s knee with their eyes still locked, sliding, sliding down the side of the boy’s calf… he feels the hole still open and bleeding on Jason’s leg, presses a finger down and in til it’s flush along the blood slick edge of the bullet. The blood-curdling scream that results when he pushes and pushes, driving the bullet in farther, is making his cock feel even harder. Jason’s body flexing every muscle he has to pull in on himself and pull him apart, legs tightening on Roman’s shoulders as he whines and wails from the pain, shrieks as the bullet wedges deeper into the meat, clenching down so hard on Roman’s cock.

The pressure just right Roman comes on an exhale, the air forced from his lungs in a harsh grunt, as he watches the muscles in Jason’s neck tense, back arching hard off the sheets as his abs twitch with the vines of pain like a livewire twisting through his body and latching claws into his nerves. Roman’s hips stutter forward and jerk in small thrusts cresting on the waves of the euphoria, lets his head fall back with his mouth hung open. It's like ecstasy. He leans forward with things still hazy in his mind, as he plants sloppy kisses on Jason’s mouth, using his freehand to pry the boy’s jaw open with his thumb so he can lick inside and taste him - swallow his cries. Roman pulls back with his teeth sunk in Jason’s bottom lip to draw a whimper from his mouth, letting go to move along the boy’s jaw and suck bruises down his throat, across his collarbone.

With his hips still pushing in the last few lazed thrusts Roman reaches a hand down to wrap around Jason’s dick, stroking it, twisting and squeezing down hard until the boy comes on a strangled cry through near gritted teeth. Jason’s muscles quivering and tensing up, finishing the last wave of Roman’s climax with one last thrust deep inside him and making the man groan, mouth wet and hot against his neck. Roman can hear the whines still leaving Jason’s throat like a wounded dog as he pulls out. It’s not a surprise to see the blood on his cock.

He presses a chaste kiss at Jason's temple as he reaches to the side, grabbing the metal plug he’d set out from before and wedging it inside the boy's sore and used hole. Full up and marked with Roman's cum. The end of the plug gleams with the man’s initials: R.S

Jason whimpers, whole body set on vibrate as he shivers and shakes. So _frightened_ by him. Roman leans down to steal the sounds from Jason’s lips, a hand curling around the boy’s pec to thumb at the swollen and abused nipple. Jason gasps against Roman’s open mouth to share the air held between them.

It’s then that Roman pulls back with a line of spit still tied between their lips, licks across the bottom one to savor the taste of Jason’s mouth on his own, before he walks away. Doesn’t bother to tuck his cock back in his slacks, taking the pants off to be rid of the wet fabric - still drenched from the shower - and wipes the cum and blood off his dick on one of the legs before letting the clothing drop to the floor. He paces buck-naked over to the walk in closet to grab a pair of boxer briefs off the shelf and slips them on before making his way to the kitchen. At this distance, Jason’s cries are but rain on a windowpane, pattering quietly in a cyclic pattern to drown out in the backdrop of the room.

The cupboards are filled with glasses, plates, a bottle of pills sat in the corner of a shelf. Roman grabs the bottle and a glass for water, two glasses, and fills them both up under the steady stream of the sink. A pill in one as he drinks from the other, gulping it down to refill again. He’s certainly exerted himself tonight. It’s only once the pill has fully dissolved that Roman brings the glasses back to the bedroom. Jason’s glass in his left. He swirls it to check the consistency before he sits his own down on the end table next to the bed.

Jason’s no longer crying so loud. Quieted down to sniffles and loud measured breathing through his nose as he lays with his head pressed hard against the pillow and his eyes scrunched shut, brows drawn down low. His jaw looks locked in place from the clench of his muscles.

“Jason. Jason, hey. Look at me.” The boy’s eyes flash open, bright bright blue, sharp with hurt and anger. Betrayal. It doesn’t quite feel like it’s all for him.

Roman motions forward with the glass in his hand as he crouches down beside where Jason lies to see more eye to eye. “I thought you might be thirsty, so I got you something to drink. If you’d like me to untie you, you can have some.” Jason just stares back with that same anger. “I think it goes without saying that trying to run or fighting me won’t end well for you.”

Jason sneers at that, rolls his eyes away and swallows down on whatever’s been holding back the words in his throat. His voice comes out rough, hoarse, nonetheless. “Because I’m in such a great state to pull something like that.”

Roman smiles, “Perhaps the water will help.”

Jason just shakes his head against the pillow, tears still rolling down his face without sound. His lips quiver on his words as he speaks with his eyes to the side of the room, “I’d like to be untied either way.” He blinks to let another round of tears pool onto the bed and clenches his jaw once more at the feel.

Roman nods, replies softly. “Of course.”

He rises to his feet and sets the glass in front of his own, nearer to the edge of the table for easy reach as he pushes his own further back to the side away from the bed. It’s easy enough for his hands to work out the knots at Jason’s wrists, silk slipping against silk as he feels Jason’s pulse strong against his fingertips, racing faster at his touch. Jason pulls them in to the center of his body to rub at the tender flesh, indented and red; he stretches out his fingers to feel them work again and bring the circulation back through the numbness.

Roman watches him intently with his hands loosely on his hips, “Do you need help sitting up? I know you must be sore.”

Jason scoffs, voice rougher than before from the catch in his throat at making the sound, “Bit of an understatement.”

But he plants his hands down on either side to push up into a sitting position, grimacing all the way and unable to hold back a slight whine as he lets his weight settle back down through his backside. As if to show how little he needs Roman there. _It won’t always be so easy._

Jason reaches over on his own to grab the glass nearest to him and drinks thoroughly, chugging down the whole thing while breathing through his nose between gulps. He sets it down roughly with a clink on the hard surface before looking up to meet Roman’s gaze, to look away again.

It’s no more than a mumble from the boy’s mouth, but Roman hears it all the same. “thank you.”

Roman nods his head, “You looked like you needed it.”

He grabs the two glasses to bring back into the kitchen and set along the sink before returning with a small medical kit. Jason’s rested back against the headboard, eyelids heavy and slid shut with his hands resting limp in his lap. Roman simply watches him for a moment before speaking up.

“I’d like to take a look at your leg, if that’s alright?” He raises the med kit to show Jason.

Jason cracks a tired eye to look at him, blinks a few times lazily before nodding his head. He stretches out his right leg further down the bed for the man to get a better view. But Roman doesn’t stop at the bed to inspect the leg; he bends down in one swift motion, scooping his arms under the boy - one beneath Jason’s knees and the other around his back - to lift him up and stand back at full height. It’s a reflexive action that Jason wraps his arms around Roman’s neck to steady himself, leaving them to twitch on Roman’s shoulders when he realizes what he’s done - not wanting to pull them back and admit his mistake. Roman smiles.

He walks them into the bathroom like that, carrying Jason bridal style, before he sets the boy down gently on the counter of the sink - the med kit placed opposite it. The bullet wound isn’t bleeding too bad, a slight trickle down the side of Jason’s calf from the open hole. Jason won’t look at him again, naked and propped up in the bathroom with Roman standing in front of him to block his way. To look at the wound on his leg. There’s a blush creeping up from Jason’s chest; apparently he’s embarrassed from being carried. _It’s a cute look for him._

Bending over, Roman raises Jason’s calf up by the heel of his foot to see the wound closer. “Can you move your toes?”

There’s a wince in the muscles of his face, hands clamped around the edge of the counter, but Jason wiggles his toes nonetheless. All five curling and uncurling in tandem, even bending his foot and straightening it out as far as he can before raising it up to point his toes at the ceiling. The bleeding increases with the movements, and Jason’s face is scrunched up like it would be around a sour lemon, but the fact that he can move his toes and foot so well is a good sign.

Roman chuckles at the look on Jason’s face, the determination to prove his resilience despite the pain, and gives him a pat on the ankle with his free hand, “Good, that’s good Jason. You can hold still now.”

Jason’s leg flinches away from the touch; Roman pulls back to open the med kit. He grabs out an alcohol wipe, packing gauze, rolled dressing, a pair of latex gloves, before setting it off to the side again with the lid shut. The gloves go on with a snap at his wrist. Rips the alcohol wipe open and begins swiping it along the rim of the wound and down Jason’s calf - cleaning up the blood that’s dribbled out.

It’s been a while since Roman’s done something like this, tending to another person’s wound. For the most part it’s only ever been for himself, and even then he’d usually have someone else do it for him. But as with dealing out pain, there’s something cathartic about fixing it, having his hands so close to the site of injury - it’s his choice what he does with it. So many times Roman’s chosen another route. However, with muscle memory still intact of the times he has helped over hurt, it’s easy to go through the motions to care for Jason.

He reaches over to the side to grab a glass off the counter and fill it with cold water. To pour in the wound. Roman gives Jason fair warning before he does.

“This might hurt a bit.”

Jason just snorts in bemusement.

Once Roman starts pouring it in, however, Jason’s muscles start clenching up. He keeps a hand at Jason’s ankle to keep his leg out straight as he does. Water running down the boy’s calf, murky pink, to puddle on the floor in loud drips. Roman grabs for the gauze next after the glass is fully emptied and the wound no longer dripping so heavily. Twists the fabric in his fingers to narrow it out before shoving it into the hole, pressing in and working it around until it lies flat against Jason’s skin. He pulls it out then and throws it in the sink before repeating the process with a new piece to keep it dry. Jason’s breathing has escalated at this point, forced through his nose as his mouth clamps shut around muffled whimpers and whines.

He swallows the sounds down to clear his throat for words. “What about… about the bullet?”

 _Tough boy._ Roman shakes his head with a little smirk, “Better to leave it in if it’s not bothering anything.” When Jason doesn’t seem to accept the response, Roman adds, “We can get it checked out tomorrow by a professional. For now this’ll at least keep out infection.”

Jason nods his head at that, nods again in a laze. It’s then that his eyes seem to refocus for a second like coming to a realization from the haze they’d been drifting into.

Roman’s quick to interject. “All that’s left is to tape it up and wrap it with some pressure and you’ll be good for the night.”

He places a flat piece of gauze over the wound and reaches back into the med kit for some tape to hold it down around the edges, before winding the dressing around Jason’s calf - pulling it taut to keep it tight. One last piece of tape to hold the dressing wrap down and Roman’s finished. Yanks his gloves off with a final snap to throw in the sink with the rest of the mess. He’ll get someone to tidy it up later.

Despite the clean up of his leg Jason still has come on his stomach, sliding down his abs in pearly tears from his own orgasm. His head has started nodding off now, slowly drooping down between his shoulders before bobbing back up in a startle when his neck bends too far - eyes hooded over to blink back half open on the upswing. The intensity of his head coming up declines with each drop as his inhales drift further apart. Roman drags two of his fingers through the cum on Jason’s abdomen, spreading it along the skin as he collects it before pulling off. Jason’s muscles twitch under the touch, a slight shiver, but his eyes remain nearly closed in slow blinks, head lulled to the side. With his fingers coated with the boy’s cum, Roman brings them to Jason’s lips.

Asks softly, “Can you open your mouth for me Jason?”

The boy is surprisingly quick to oblige. Jaw slacking to part his lips, Roman sticks his fingers inside and wipes them down on Jason’s tongue - using his teeth to sheer it off. He pulls them out just before Jason closes his mouth, smacking his lips together as he balks at the taste. Nose scrunched up, he sticks his tongue out.

Jason slurs his words as he speaks around it. “It’s salty.”

_He’ll get used to the taste eventually._

Roman hums in agreement, grabs the glass he used while cleaning the wound and refills it with water. He holds it to Jason’s mouth and tells him to “Drink.”

Not bothering to tilt his head, Jason slurps at the water at the top of the glass. Roman tips the drink to accommodate him, until it’s half gone and Jason pulls back to let the rest pour out on his stomach. He shrinks back at the feel and coughs to let a little drool down his chin. _What a messy boy._ Stepping to the side, Roman grabs a hand towel from the rack and dries off what Jason’s spilled on himself. Wipes at his slack mouth. Jason’s eyes meet his.

“Are you… are you sleepy?” Jason blinks, slowly, eyelids not quite in sync, “I’m sleepy. real... sleepy.”

Roman pushes the hair from Jason’s face to get a better look at him, his eyes faded and glossed over. Unfocused. “Perhaps we should get you to bed then.”

Jason nods his head and leaves it dropped, eyes closed. Strong arms slide around him to pick him up once more and carry him out of the room, a voice in his ear asking him to tighten his hold around their neck. The sound of sheets pulled back before he’s gently laid on a bed, tucked in with something soft wrapping around him on all sides. He feels the press of lips against his forehead before feet patter away along the floor.

Stopped with the door at his back, Roman turns to look behind him where Jason lies. He flicks off the light, his voice low and steady, “Sweet dreams, Jason.”

He pulls the door shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman can be surprisingly "nice", once he's already gotten his way that is.


End file.
